


O Brother, Where Art Thou?

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Nights in Sandbridge [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fighting For Honor, Fighting for fun, Fistfight, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Multi, background James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark - Freeform, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Billie stopped short, put her hands on her knees as she was panting for breath. When she straightened up, there was a bloody print on her jeans. “Uncle Tony--” She gasped again. “There’s a man here who says he’s going to fight you!”





	O Brother, Where Art Thou?

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the events of [Mother of Tides](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051604), but you don't need to have read that one to read this. You should probably be at least vaguely familiar with Natalia's history in this 'verse, first, though.

She wasn’t supposed to go into the parking lot. Billie knew that; there were a bunch of rules about where she was and wasn’t allowed to play. Almost all of them included places where she might bother customers. The parking lot was, as Uncle Bucky would put it, a Safety Concern.

But it was a teacher workday, during the off-season, so Billie wasn’t in school and Dockside wouldn’t open to customers until mid-afternoon.

Billie put her foot down on Auntie Nat’s skateboard and rolled it back and forth, listening to the wheels click. She’d brought it over to get Uncle Tony to fix it, which he had in short order. Billie had watched intently the entire time, trying to figure out what Uncle Tony was doing -- it wasn’t that he wouldn’t tell her, it’s just she sort of liked figuring it out herself, _first_.

After he’d replaced some bearings and attached new wheels, they’d leaned the board against the side of the garage and gone off to drink coffee or whatever it is that adults… did. They were adults. Like, who cared?

“Don’t get into trouble,” Uncle Tony had admonished her, before heading inside.

Billie considered the options.

She could get out Uncle Tony’s tool kit and take the board apart by herself and see if she could figure out how to put it back together. (Apart was always easier. Always.)

Or… she considered the board. She considered the empty parking lot.

She had a helmet and knee pads and a pair of gloves. What she did not have was a skateboard of her own. Uncle Bucky had given her a scooter last year, and she had a bike.

Auntie Nat would be really, really mad if Billie took the board apart and couldn’t put it back together again.

Probably.

And upsetting Auntie Nat was something _everyone_ tried hard not to do. Even Uncle Bucky, and he was the bravest person that Billie knew. (Uncle Steve sometimes upset Auntie Nat, but then he had to make it up to her, and Billie was pretty sure that was an adult joke that she didn’t understand. And if she did understand it, it would probably be gross.)

“Fine!” Billie waved her arms around in the air. “I’ll get my gear.” She gave the screwdriver one last, longing look, before going into the garage and getting her helmet and pads. She was, as Uncle Tony would say, mitigating the damage. She _might_ get in trouble for borrowing Auntie Nat’s skateboard without permission. She was _pretty sure_ she was going to get in trouble for skating in the parking lot. But she was _positive_ that she would get in trouble if she wasn’t wearing the safety gear.

She checked over her shoulder once she got her helmet on. Still clear.

She put the board down on the flat pavement between the house and the garage. Took two steps and jumped, getting her feet on the board and letting the movement propel her forward. Foot down, push off. There was a short ramp down from the garage and Billie threw her hips to one side to avoid running square into Uncle Bucky’s truck. By the time she hit the bottom of the ramp, the wind had picked up, blowing in her face.

The parking lot was huge and empty and perfect.

Billie gave a shove and then worked through a series of tic-tacs, or tried, at least. She kept flipping the board at the last second and having to stop.

She got three in a row, pushing herself across the lot, longways. Concentrating on her feet and what the board was doing under her sneakers.

When she hit a wall. The board shot out from under her and she had one brief second of terror before she tumbled and went to her knees. She wobbled there for a moment, and pitched forward again. Her palm erupted in fire as she scraped it. She hissed, grabbing at her wrist.

Darn it. Darn darn darn! (fuck!)

Billie’s first concern was for the board. She scrambled to her feet and--

A big man put his hand down on Billie’s shoulder and she backed up, hastily. She stared up at him. He was huge. Like bigger than Uncle Steve. With bushy black hair, streaked with gray. Blue eyes. She might have thought he was Hagrid -- he really was big! -- except his beard was neatly trimmed and red! He was wearing a white shirt with embroidery around the neck, and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow to reveal tattooed forearms.

“You lose this?” He offered her Auntie Nat’s skateboard. “Is not too bad, fall you take.”

Billie squeezed her wrist again, then turned her palm to look. A few red marks. Not much blood. That was good. Uncle Tony got all white-faced and shuddery whenever she was bleeding. She looked closer; a few pieces of gravel were stuck in her hand. “Yeah, thanks,” Billie said. She held out her other hand for the board and tucked it under her arm.

“Where you get? I know board like this, many years ago.” And that was probably enough talking to strangers. Uncle Bucky got very crabby about that.

“It’s my Auntie’s,” Billie told him. She took a few steps in the direction of Dockside.

“Your auntie,” the man said. “That would be Natalia Romanov?” The man leaned forward, his pale eyes staring at her intently.

“Um, yeah,” Billie agreed. She took a few more steps backward. “She’s in th’ office with Uncle Tony.” She pointed, just to be clear.

“Uncle Tony, hmmm?” The man crossed his arms over his chest. “I will fight this Uncle Tony. Go and fetch him, da?”

Billie barely remembered to drop the board near the garage in her hurry. “Uncle Tony! Uncle…” Ow! She forgot she’d hurt her hand and put it down on the porch rail in her haste. (fuck!) “Uncle Tony!”

***

The receipts were not adding up, according to the financial software, which meant Tony was stuck going through the tickets one at a time to figure out where the discrepancy had occurred. So he was kind of grateful for Billie bursting into the restaurant yelling for him at top volume, even if that meant there was something wrong.

He exchanged a glance with Nat, who was helping him, and went to the office doorway to look out into the main floor. “Billie? What’s up, honey?”

Billie stopped short, put her hands on her knees as she was panting for breath. When she straightened up, there was a bloody print on her jeans. “Uncle Tony--” She gasped again. “There’s a man here who says he’s going to fight you!”

Fear chased anger through Tony’s system, a white-hot shiver. He wasn’t a fighter, by any means. “Call Steve and Bucky,” he told Nat. “I’ll go... find out what the problem is. Hopefully I’ll be able to talk this guy out of whatever his problem is.” He looked at Billie. “You-- Why are you wearing your helmet and pads?” He shook his head. “Nevermind. Stay here in the office.”

Fuck... Tony took a deep breath, then made himself walk across the floor and out the door.

The man was standing in the parking lot, legs apart, arms on his hips. He looked like a brick shithouse, all broad chest and imposing height, with black hair and a red beard. “You are this _Uncle Tony_?”

Holy fuck. Tony didn’t want to fight anyone in general, but he definitely did not want to fight this guy in specific. The guy looked like a damn _bear_. “Yeah, I’m Tony. What seems to be the problem?”

The man held out one hand, an approximate of Tony’s height as compared to the man’s own. “Very small,” he said. “Will not take long. Come, we fight!” He thumped his fist against his chest.

“Why?” Tony tried to make that sound reasonable and calm rather than plaintive. He wasn’t sure how successful he was.

Billie tucked herself against the door frame, peering around at the scene, eyes wide. “Are you really gonna fight him, Uncle Tony?” That was a new record, it had taken her less than fifteen seconds to conveniently forget that he’d told her to stay put.

“It is obligation,” the man stated. His _I’m only being reasonable_ voice was worlds and away better than Tony’s. “You have dishonored family. We fight, solve it. Will not take long. And I will try not to break your pretty face.”

“I... appreciate that,” Tony managed. “I’d really rather not fight. For obvious reasons, I’m sure. Who is it that I’ve dishonored? Because if Bucky has still _more_ family that he forgot to tell me about, we’re going to have some very stern words.”

“No more talk! I have waited _seven years_ to fight the man my sister loves. I have walked hundreds of miles, I have stolen money to get here, and I will have satisfaction!” He balled up his fists; each one nearly the size of a canned ham.

“I... sister? I don’t have any-- I haven’t dated a woman for _ten_ years!” Tony complained. He backed up a few steps. “Who the hell _are_ you?!”

The man brushed aside Tony’s objections without answering them, charging at him with an angry bellow. Tony had just enough time to register that his life was flashing before his eyes when a red-haired blur darted between him and the incoming man.

“Nat--” someone yelled.

The man’s fist came down, headed straight for Nat, who was now shielding Tony. Everything happened in slow motion.

She snapped her hand up, caught the man’s arm, swiveled her hips and shoved with her free hand. Her eyes were flashing dangerously, some powerful emotion that Tony couldn’t identify.

The man’s feet left the ground, his momentum carrying him forward. With an epic crash that seemed to shake the whole building, the man struck the side of Dockside. He staggered and fell to the porch.

“Borja!” Nat exclaimed even as she rushed to the man’s side, falling to her knees. She uttered a rapid babbling of Russian that Tony couldn’t even begin to follow, despite a few years worth of casual study. His comprehension might have been impaired by the fact that Nat was sobbing hysterically.

“So, so cool,” Billie whispered.

“What the hell,” Tony breathed. Adrenaline was zinging through his whole body, bleeding out in shakes. “Nat, what the _hell_.”

“Da,” the man was saying, patting Nat’s shoulder as if reassuring her. “Da, is good, I am good.”

Steve was there, suddenly, big as life and twice as pissed. “Nat!” His eyes were wild at any threat to his wife. Then he looked. Really looked. “ _Oh, my god_. Borja!”

Tony looked back and forth between Steve and the lump of Nat and... Borja, apparently. He spared a glance for Billie, but she was still glued to the door, her eyes big as saucers. Tony turned back to Steve, who at least spoke English. “What. The hell. Who is this guy?”

Steve blinked. “Um. My brother-in-law. I think.” He stretched one hand out. “Nat? _Natasha_?”

That didn’t make any sense. _Tony_ was Steve’s brother-in-law, more or less, but Nat’s family had all been killed years ago. She’d told Tony the story when he’d first come to Sandbridge. But--

Nat was still crying, clinging to the man. “Borja, Borja.” She wiped her face on his sleeve, leaving a smear of tears and snot on the fabric. “What are you doing, attacking my Tony! Have you lost all your manners?”

“He is your husband, da?”

“No!” Tony exclaimed, almost in unison with Nat. He held up his hands like he was being held up at gunpoint. “We’re _friends_!”

“That is my husband!” Nat added, pointing at Steve.

Borja looked up, and up some more. “Da! That is more like it!” He clapped Nat’s shoulder again, grinning. “More fair. I fight this one, then!”

Nat smacked her brother on the shoulder, which moved him not at all. “You are so stupid and old fashioned. You will not fight Steven! There is no need for _fighting_. This has all been settled years ago!”

Borja turned on her, and when he scowled, he looked so much like Nat it was terrifying. “You married a man I have not fought! How could you do this thing?” He was yelling, his voice booming and loud.

Like a whisper of a dream, Tony heard Bucky, kneeling down next to their daughter. “I miss all the good stuff. Catch me up?”

Nat’s face was tear-streaked and defiant, lovely and joyful and furious and terrified all at the same time. She looked like a madonna, painted up by the old masters. Tony had never seen her so beautiful.

“Hey,” Steve said in his calm, dangerous voice. He caught Borja’s elbow. “ _Don’t_ yell at my wife. You want a fight? You came to the right place.”

“Oh my god, what--” Tony threw up his hands and gave up all hope of keeping this to even a semblance of civility. “At least go down to the beach so the sand will soak up the blood,” he said. He meant it to be sarcastic.

“Da, this is good,” Borja said. He clapped Steve’s shoulder companionably. “You will give me good fight, I can tell. Come, we fight!”

Bucky, who was getting an extremely sensationalized version of events from Billie, stood up. He blew air out between pursed lips and scraped his hair back away from his face. “Okay, okay,” he said. “We need rules.”

“Rules?” Borja looked offended. “What do we need rules for? Is fight!”

“No,” Bucky said. “If you just start punching each other, that’s _assault_. They arrest you for that shit. Zero of ten, do not recommend. If there are rules, then it’s sport, and everything is fine.”

“Bucky, no, not you as well!” Nat protested. “There is no reason to fight.”

Bucky sighed. Indicated both men, bristling hostility at each other. “This is for your _honor_ , Nat. You honestly think either of them is going to listen to _me_ on that? Ha.”

“Rules! Bah. One rule, no rules. Now we are good? We fight?”

Tony put a hand on Billie’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go get some ice cream and wait for this to blow over, hm?” He’d take Nat, too, but he didn’t think she’d be willing to leave either Steve or her... brother? ...at this point.

Billie wrapped one arm around his leg, hugging herself to him. She looked torn; ice cream was a big time favorite. “But… Uncle Tony, I wanna see th’ fight.”

“Uncle Steve can tell you all about it later, I’m sure,” Tony said. “I know _I_ don’t want to see a fight. Come keep me company?”

Billie wilted a little bit, looking back out at Bucky, Steve and Borja, who were apparently planning mass mayhem. Bucky, doing his magic trick, where he made something utterly horrifying seem completely logical and reasonable. “Oh. Yeah, okay,” Billie said. “You need company. An’ ice cream.” She went to take his hand, then switched sides, offering her left hand. “I can keep you company, Uncle Tony.”

“Good.” Tony exchanged looks with Bucky, who looked more resigned than upset, and nodded. He headed down the sidewalk that led toward the Baskin Robbins. “And while we have our ice cream, you can tell me what happened to your hand.”

***

There was a point where you just couldn’t fight the tide; anyone who’d grown up near the ocean knew that. Bucky looked back and forth between his best friend and Nat’s brother and knew this was just one of those points.

“All right, gentlemen, and I use th’ term loosely, here,” Bucky said, clapping his hands and then rubbing together. “Explain this to me. What are the terms?”

“Terms?”

“The terms,” Nat snapped, “are that these children are going to fight over a thing that belongs to _neither_ of them!” She punctuated this with another completely ineffectual smack to Borja’s arm.

“Right,” Bucky said. “Aside from that. Like, I’m… getting that this is a Ukrainian thing, I get that. But how do you decide who wins, and what happens to the loser. That sort of thing? There’s traditions, right?” And hopefully something to keep the violence and injuries to a minimum.

“We fight,” Borja said. “Til someone is knocked down and does not get up again, or surrenders. It is honorable. To make sure my sister has someone who can take care of her. She married him without family approval. We must fight now. It is required!”

Nat huffed. “Mama approved of Steve already. And if I did not marry him, I would have to go home and marry Sergei! Fighting is pointless! Steve has already protected me, he has proven himself in this!”

“And now, he will prove it to me,” Borja said, brushing aside her complaints. Bucky inhaled. Oh, god, Borja did not know what was going to hit him -- and Bucky didn’t mean Steve, either. Borja was about one more word away from ending up on Nat’s shitlist, and really, no sane person wanted to be there.

“Wait, _what_?” Steve blinked at his wife. “Was this some sort of family arranged marriage thing?” His voice went up several registers.

“No,” Nat said firmly. “It was an old joke. A bad one. That if I could not find a husband, I should marry Borja’s friend Sergei. But I knew, when I saw you first, I would not be forced to do this, yes?” She gave Steve her most winsome smile.

Logic… was not going to win the day. Borja was still rubbing his hands together in anticipation and Steve had that pugnacious chin going on. “Right. I’m going to add another rule. Any broken bones, and we stop, right then, got it? Come on. Beach.” He didn’t wait to see if anyone was following him. He knew they all would be. He also knew Nat was going to add him to the list of people she was pissed with, for facilitating, but really, he’d much rather they punch each other on the sand and get scrapes, rather than on the pavement where there’d be a much higher chance of injury.

He didn’t even have to look, he knew Nat was right next to him. “Honest appraisal time,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Who’s likely to win?”

She sighed. “Borja,” she admitted. “Steve boxes at the gym, and is very strong, but Borja fights bare-knuckle for the joy of it, since he was a boy. He is bigger, maybe stronger. And I do not know what he has been doing, these past seven years, but I can guess it was not a life of indolence.”

Fuck. “Here, help me dig a ring. A big circle, twenty feet diameter. That’ll make everything look all official and sportsy, if someone calls the cops,” Bucky said. When they met up on the other side -- it was more a wobbly oval than a circle, but who cared, really -- he said, “So, what happens when Steve loses? You go back to the Ukraine?”

Nat shook her head. “No, it is not a prize fight. Borja wishes to know I am well cared for. I think Steve will give a good accounting. If Borja is satisfied, he will welcome Steve to the family.” The stubborn tilt of her mouth said _he had better be satisfied, or else_. She gave Bucky a solemn look. “It is very stupid.”

“Yep,” Bucky agreed, popping the P. He shook his head. “I hope… well, eventually he’ll figure it out. Ain’t just Stevie lookin’ out for you. We all do. You got family here. Hell, we oughta be th’ ones welcomin’ him to our family.”

Nat smiled at him, just a bit. “You may not want him, you know.”

Yeah, that was possibly true. Bucky made a mental note to dig around under the restaurant and see if there was some evil-brother-attracting artifact there. Maybe build a moat, or something. The amount of trouble that unwanted family had been causing in the last few years was just ridiculous.

“All right,” Bucky said. He stepped away from the line. “You two, in the circle. Nat and I are going to stand over here. If you bump into us, you both lose, I don’t care how it happens. You’re not going to hurt _Nat_ , fighting over her honor. Or whatever the hell it is you’re doing. Fight nicely. Punching, kicking, throws only. _No biting_. Stop at surrender. We clear, gentlemen?”   

“And no matter what the outcome,” Nat said, too calm, “it changes nothing.”

Bucky crossed his arms and attempted to look official. Steve might box, but Bucky had been involved in some street fighting, and he had absolutely no qualms about joining in on Steve’s side if things looked like they were going to head south.

“We’re clear, Buck,” Steve said. He’d kicked off his shoes and was barefoot in the sand; probably smart. The beach didn’t provide a lot of stable footing. That was Bucky’s big concern, not that they’d punch each other stupid, but that someone would break a leg in a bad fall.

“Da, is good,” Borja agreed.

“Is still _stupid_ ,” Nat muttered, but she just folded her arms and leaned against Bucky’s side to watch.

Bucky considered making them shake hands, but decided that might be pushing it, a bit. “On my mark, then,” he said. “Ready. And… fight.”

The two of them circled each other; Steve crouched a little, Borja almost arrogant, strutting around.

Bucky always thought movie fights were like porn; _absolutely nothing_ like a real fist fight. There was nothing elegant or showy about a real fight. Steve kept his arms in close to his body, putting out a tentative jab here and there. There were feinted moves, a stepping back and a drawing closer. The sand kept either of them from doing any fancy footwork.

Every time Borja made to close with Steve, Steve’s arms came up. Boxing moves to protect his head, but it left his stomach open and--

Yeah, that happened. Borja flicked a fist toward Steve’s face, then closed, landed a heavy blow against Steve’s ribs. Bucky winced. People punching each other had a distinctive sound; like throwing a heavy piece of meat on a cutting board, a solid _thwack_. Nat gasped, a soft inhalation that Bucky wouldn’t have heard if she hadn’t been standing so close.

Steve didn’t even hesitate, probably high on nerves and adrenaline. Got a head strike while he was in close; knuckles glancing off Borja’s cheek. Steve backed off, several steps, not following up, like he probably should have.

“Make him go down an’ stay there,” Bucky couldn’t help but mutter under his breath. Bucky’d wrestled in high school; he wasn’t bad with his fists, but he was better with locks and pins. It was faster, too, if your opponent didn’t know what they were doing. Punching… hurt. And it took time. All those Hollywood idiots made it look like someone could knock out an opponent with a single blow. Yeah, right. Snap their fool neck, more like. People were both tougher than they looked, and more fragile.

Eight pounds of pressure to break a limb.

Bucky closed his eyes for just a second, trying to blink away the memory of Rumlow’s arm under his hand.

More blows; a flurry of them as the two closed again. Steve got in a half dozen or more rabbit punches to Borja’s ribs before Borja took a step back and hit Steve in the face with a roundhouse blow. Steve spun around, staggered. A splatter of blood ran down his chin and he spit more of it.

Steve took a few more blows, fell backward in the sand, landing on his ass and then went to his elbows.

Stared up at his opponent, helpless.

“Give up, Steve,” Bucky murmured, not wanting to see this degenerate into a kicking fight, which was what happened, a lot, once someone was on the ground. Next to him, Nat was practically vibrating with tension, ready to run into the ring herself if it came to it.

Instead, Steve did one of his fancy kip-ups, rolling onto his shoulder before springing up from the ground. He landed well, and obviously shocked the hell out of Borja, who was expecting to take advantage of a downed opponent. Steve came up under his guard and jabbed him twice in the chin, spun to take a blow with his ribs, and followed it with an elbow to Borja’s face.

_Crunch._

Yeah, that was probably Borja’s nose broken there. Blood gushed, pouring down his face.

Bucky reminded himself to send Tony a thank you text for getting Billie the hell out of the vicinity. Bucky didn’t really want her seeing this sort of violence up close and personal.

Fuck. Broken nose didn’t count as a bone, though. Borja wiped his mouth off with one hand, sneering. “This is what you have got? This is what you bring to our family?”

Steve was panting for breath, sweat soaking his tee, his hair, dripping down his throat. His fists were still up, even if he was a little unsteady on his feet. “Yeah, it’s what I got. I can do this all day, pal.”

“Is good!” Borja took a step back, threw up his arms. “I am willing, call it a draw, da? You give Borja good fight. You are good match for Natasha.”

Steve squinted in the general direction of his wife. “Tie? You heard it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Take the tie, Steve,” he said. “I swear, I think you _like_ gettin’ hit.”

Nat barely waited for Steve’s wave of acknowledgement before she skipped across the line, caught Steve’s face in both hands, and kissed him soundly. When she finally released him, he was panting a little, and grinning like an idiot. “You,” she told him, “are very dumb. And you,” she said, whirling on Borja, “are even dumber. Seven years, I think you are _dead_ , and you turn up and insist on _this_?” She looked for a moment like she was considering punching him right on his broken nose.

“Da,” Borja said, muffled as he pulled up his shirt to reveal a lot of abs and an unreasonable amount of chest hair. “Years, I am hiding, getting work, planning. Keeps me warm, thinking, I must get to United States and find my sister. Stupid goal, yes, but only one I have. I tried, few weeks, after the attack, to call, but phone line was disconnected. Don’t know where you are. I think to myself, if Natasha had been here, who would take care of her? I will find this person, make sure he is worthy. Sometimes, it is all I have.”

Nat stamped her foot, which was less than effective in the sand. “Stupid,” she reiterated, and then threw her around around Borja’s waist (they didn’t go all the way around, he was that solidly built) and hugged him tightly. “Why am I cursed with so terrible a brother?” she wondered, voice muffled.

“You were born with red hair,” Borja said. “What else do you expect, but bad luck?” He wiped his face with his shirt and very, very gingerly, kissed the top of her head. “Now, you have ice for terrible big brother, da? Your man, he break my magnificent nose! How am I supposed to get new wife now, with broken nose?”

“Ice,” Nat agreed. “Also, ice cream. We must all have ice cream.” She turned to look at Bucky. “Tony and Billie are still at the shop, yes? Do we join them, or have them bring some back?”

Bucky looked back and forth between Steve and Borja, both of whom were bleeding, sweaty, and covered in sand. “Get take away,” he said. “No need to traumatize the poor ice cream server.” He pulled out his phone and started thumbing through his texts.

_Fite ovr. Brng hm ice crm for Nat? Also me. And idiots._

New text from Tony:  
 _So all the ice crem they hav, then. billie sz: who won?_

Bucky snorted. Thumbed over the keyboard again.

_Draw. Bs nose bustd. S has splt lp + mybe crckd rib? Or bd bruz._

New text from Tony:  
 _Rght. brnging allllllll the ice cream._

 

**Author's Note:**

> We originally wrote this to be part of Mother of Tides, as a counterpart to Barney’s appearance there. But we couldn’t quite make it work, so we decided to pull it out as a separate story.
> 
> Follow us on tumblr ([27dragons](http://27dragons.tumblr.com) and [tisfan](http://tisfan.tumblr.com)) for general marvel fangirling, more fic and occasional prompt fills, and news!


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